


Quiet

by maggs689



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Calm Boy Nolan Patrick, Human Panic Attack and Angel Carter Hart, M/M, TK is Tragically Straight, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24615628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maggs689/pseuds/maggs689
Summary: Everything about Carter’s first game in the NHL was overwhelming.But then there was Nolan.
Relationships: Carter Hart/Nolan Patrick
Comments: 11
Kudos: 123





	Quiet

**Author's Note:**

> Please be aware that our sweet child suffers from anxiety and panic attacks in this story. If that is triggering for you, please click away.

Everything about Carter’s first game in the NHL was overwhelming - leaving the Phantoms and starting his first game in Philly three days later, the crowd at the Wells Fargo Center when he made his first save, his parents crying in the stands at the end of the game, TK shouting over the loud music in the locker room as they celebrated the win.

Amid all that chaos, right in the middle of all of that swirling noise and emotion, was Nolan. He sat quietly in his stall unwrapping his leg tape, an oasis of calm. Carter watched him, the way that his sweaty hair fell in his eyes when he bent over, and felt something settle in himself. When G placed the robe over his shoulders and his teammates howled, Carter almost missed the quiet smile on Nolan’s face. Almost.

***

Since Carter was little, people have told him that goal tending is a mental sport. Carter didn’t know what that meant for the first few years. He let his emotions, the rage of puberty and competitiveness, drive him as he played. He was a mess, stopping hard shots but missing as many easy ones, unpredictable and volatile in the net. 

Later, Carter got enough experience in goal to see through the noise of his feelings and win some games. He was still emotional - he’d still punch a wall in the hallway leading to the dressing room if he got pulled - but it was happening less and less. He started working with specialized coaches and visualization experts to get a handle on controlling what he saw in front of him and how he reacted to it. With that came a focus on nutrition, sleep, and functional strength training that was meant to support the goal tending training. 

Carter’s rages from his early teens ebbed and was increasingly recognized for his talent - drafted in the second round in 2016, nominated to Canada’s World Juniors team. But with more opportunities came uncertainty and fear. After he was drafted, Carter spent two years in Everett, playing games that were only attended by scouts. He lived in a shitty team house with three other players, guys who rotated in and out depending on the roster, everyone on their own journey to who knows where. There was talk about Carter going to Philadelphia eventually but he was damned if he knew when that was going to happen. The waiting made Carter’s chest tight. Sometimes he was so overwhelmed that he had to shut himself in the bathroom at the rink until he could breathe again.

Lehigh wasn’t much better - the lights brighter, the focus hotter, the panic sharper. He was performing better but he was still scared every day that he would fail, that the hype that was building would lead to him letting everyone down. Sometimes when he was on the ice, the noise in his head was so deafening that he couldn’t even hear the crowd, the blood pulsing so loudly in his ears that his vision blurred. 

Every night Carter laid in bed, counting his breaths and scanning his body for tension like his sports psychologist had taught him to do. He tried not to focus on all of the unknowns and all of the things that he wasn’t handling - the electricity getting shut off because he had never paid his own bills before, the fact that the guy he dated in Everett wasn’t talking to him anymore now that he lived across the country, that he had a terrible outing the last time the Flyers scouts came to see a Phantoms game. Instead of sleeping, he stared at the ceiling until dawn, his mind racing.

***

In Philadelphia, in the soulless corporate hotel that the team put him up in that December, Carter spent hours pacing in front of the windows that looked out onto Market Street. When he got too agitated, when even the smoothie he made in the kitchenette turned his stomach, he watched hours of game tape until he fell asleep on the floor in front of the television, exhausted. 

At the rink, he kept to himself, stretching with Brian and working with the goalie coaches away from the rest of the team. Before his third game, what would turn out to be a loss to _Columbus_ of all teams, he sat quietly in his stall and watched his team get themselves hyped. These guys were like every team he had been on - growing louder and more aggressive as puck-drop approached and then exploding out onto the ice in a fury of energy. Carter squeezed his eyes shut and tried to control his breathing, looking inside for a quiet moment before he had to go out onto the ice, searching within himself. 

“You okay, Hartsy,” Carter heard someone mutter in a low voice next to him. He opened his eyes to see that Nolan had moved into the stall next to him and was leaning toward him, his eyebrows drawn down in concern. 

“Yeah,” Carter let out a sigh. He noticed that his teammates were moving out of the dressing room so he stood up, wavering a little as he stood.

“Hey, are you sure?” Nolan said, catching Carter’s arm and steadying him. His voice was so low that Carter almost couldn’t hear it from the shouting in the hallway.

“I’m golden,” Carter said, trying to sound stronger than he felt. He pulled himself together and Nolan stepped back, dropping his hand.

“You’re great out there Hartsy,” Nolan said, looking down at his skates, his cheeks flamed bright red. “Have a great game.”

***

Carter did not have a great game.

The dressing room after the game was finally quiet, but not in a good way. Carter sat still in his stall, watching Claude set his jaw and head out into the hallway to do interviews. This was all his fault, this dead silence and the disappointment of his teammates was all his fault.

Carter waited until everyone had dressed and left before he headed to the showers. He spent 20 minutes sobbing under the spray of water, his fists balled against his face. He dried off and dressed slowly in hopes that he could delay the moment when he would be alone in the hotel. He knew he wouldn’t sleep that night - that he’d replay every one of the goals he had let in over and over until it was time to get up for practice.

When he got out to his car in the parking lot, he was surprised to see Nolan leaning against it, his bag at his feet. 

“Hey,” Nolan said quietly when he saw Carter approaching.

“Patty,” Carter said, “what are you doing here?”

Nolan shrugged and pushed himself off of the car. “Wanna get something to eat?”

“Where’s TK?” Carter asked, looking around at the empty parking lot. He had only been with the team a week but he knew that Nolan and TK were inseparable. They drove to and from every game and practice together and, from what Carter could tell, were at the very least roommates.

“He went home,” Nolan said, going around to the passenger’s side of the car. “You drive. I’ll give you directions.”

Carter unlocked the car and got in. He pulled out of the parking lot and turned onto 95 North, the lights of Center City on his left. Nolan was directing him and playing music out of his phone, something with guitars and a singer that mumbled as much as Nolan did. Carter didn’t try to talk. He was just happy to have Nolan silent beside him in the car with music playing quietly to cover any awkwardness.

They got off of the highway in an area that Carter had never been to (he had only been to his hotel, the arena, and the Skate Zone) and parked on a side street. They got out and walked up to the window at Poe’s, where Nolan ordered roast pork sandwiches and root beers for them.

“I’m on a sort of strict diet,” Carter said after Nolan was done ordering and they moved aside so some people out for a night could order their late-night munchies.

Nolan rolled his eyes. “We are all, bud.” He leaned against the wall of the building next to the ATM and closed his eyes.

Carter slumped next to him and looked at the mural on the outside wall of the taco place across the street. “Why is it called Fishtown?” 

Nolan cracked his eyes open and smiled, a tiny one that just turned up the corner of his mouth. “This whole area used to be a huge open-air fish market.”

“Really?” Carter said, watching Nolan out of the corner of his eye.

“No, not really,” Nolan huffed out. “I’m from Winnipeg, I have no idea about this city.”

The girl at the window yelled out “Patrick” and Nolan fetched their sandwiches. They sat on the curb and started eating, the juice from the roast pork running down their hands as they ate. Carter moaned to himself as he tasted the aged provolone in the sandwich and Nolan nodded.

“Good as hell, right?” he said, wiping the grease off of his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked happy and his hair was shiny under the streetlights.

“Good as hell,” Carter repeated. “Do you come here a lot?”

“Usually after a bad loss,” Nolan said and took another big bite. After he chewed for a moment, he continued. “I don’t usually bring anybody else here but it seemed like you could use it.”

They finished their sandwiches in silence, watching the people out at the bars and restaurants in the neighborhood stream past them on the sidewalk. 

After they were done, Nolan stood up and brushed off the seat of his pants. “Ready to head back?”

“Sure,” Carter said. They headed back to the car and to Center City, where Carter dropped off Nolan before driving himself back to the hotel.

That night, he fell asleep right away, stomach full from the sandwich and mind quiet for once. When he woke up the next morning, he had a text on his phone from Nolan.

_Hope you had a good night_

_Sleep tight_

***

Carter was pretty sure this skid was his fault. They were playing in Carolina on New Year’s Eve and he couldn’t stop a puck to save his life. He got pulled at the start of the second - a decision that he knew was coming but still made his vision white out with fury. He sat on the bench and spent the rest of the game with panic roaring in his ears, counting down the seconds until he could dive down the hallway and get away from everyone. 

At the final horn he was on his feet - first to undress, first to shower, first to get the hell out of this arena. One the plane, he hid in the bathroom after takeoff and vowed to stay there until he could feel the landing gear come down.

About half an hour into the flight, Carter was hyperventilating, crouched on the bathroom floor, when he heard a soft knock on the bathroom door. 

“Hartsy? Are you in here?” It was Nolan, his low rumble coming through the door.

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a sec,” Carter said. He washed his hands and opened the door.

Nolan’s eyes softened when he saw Carter’s flushed face. “Hey,” he said softly, taking Carter by the arm. “C’mere.” Nolan led Carter over to a couch in the back of the plane and sat them down, pulling a soft throw over Carter’s legs. Carter noticed that he was shivering and pressed his hands together, embarrassed.

“Patty, I’m fine-”

Nolan cut him off with a look. He took Carter’s hands and separated them, squeezing each palm in his. “Wanna breathe with me for a minute?” he said, his voice low. “Close your eyes.”

“Patty-”

“Just try it,” Nolan said, bringing his hands over Carter’s eyes until they shut. “Breathe in, two, three, four, five,” he counted, “and out, two, three, four, five.” Nolan continued, speaking quietly until Carter’s hands stopped shaking and he could take a full breath without fighting. 

“It’s my third loss in a row,” Carter mumbled, looking down at his hands in Nolan’s. They were both 6’2” but Nolan felt bigger somehow, his hands warm surrounding Carter’s. 

“I know,” Nolan said. When Carter looked up, he was startled by the color and intensity of Nolan’s eyes, usually a pale hazel on the ice but shining bright green in the dim lights of the plane. 

“I don’t- I don’t know what to do with that,” Carter said, pulling his hands away and running them through his hair. “It’s all too much, the reporters and the tweets and the whole city looking at me-” He cut off with a deep breath, the tightness in his chest again. He put his hands over his face, embarrassed.

“Listen,” Nolan said, taking Carter’s hands again. Warm hands, Carter felt his chest unclench. “I know pressure. All of that, all of the expectations, that’s not you. That’s just noise.”

“Noise,” Carter repeated, feeling hopeless.

“Yeah,” Nolan said, nodding slowly. “Don’t let it get to the quiet inside you.” He put his hand flat on Carter’s chest and pressed against his thumping heart.

Carter put his hand over Nolan’s and squeezed. “You do understand, Patty,” he said quietly. He paused and then quirked a smile up at Nolan. “For someone who gets quiet, it’s funny that you spend so much time with TK.” 

Nolan barked out a laugh and reclined back on the couch, stretching his long legs in front of him. “Right?”

***

They won at home on a Thursday night against Dallas, and Carter could finally feel the tension he had been holding for the past three weeks washing away in his post-game shower. He didn’t even mind how loud the dressing room was after the game - Claude shouting out the guys who had a good game, TK screaming along to the music, the rest of the guys arguing about where they were going out after. 

Carter let himself be carried along on their energy, all the way to the packed bar in Old City that someone picked during that dressing room argument. He took the beer Claude bought for him and drank it down fast, happy to feel the rush of the alcohol after abstaining from drinking for so long to comply with his nutrition plan. He drank another, wincing while TK shouted in his ear about the game with his arm locked around Carter’s neck. 

“Hey,” Carter heard from behind him. It was Nolan. He was standing close against Carter and holding a full beer, which he pushed toward TK with one hand. With the other, he unwound TK’s arm from around Carter’s neck and pushed him away. TK took the drink, protesting, but moved down the bar to harass someone else.

“You wanna get out of here?” Nolan said in a quiet voice that Carter could barely hear over the din of the bar and jerked his head toward the door of the bar.

“Don’t you have to stay with TK?” Carter shouted back at him.

Nolan screwed up his face. “No, why?”

“Because you’re…” Carter said, gesturing vaguely in TK’s direction.

“C’mon,” Nolan said, taking Carter’s arm. 

Carter followed him out of the bar and they fell into comfortable silence as they walked along Chestnut Street, stepping out into the street to avoid groups of people heading toward the bars at the other end of the block. They crossed Independence Mall, heading north across the manicured lawn toward Market Street.

“Have you ever seen the Liberty Bell?” Carter asked as they passed the pavilion where it was housed.

Nolan sighed and threw up his hands. “It’s a broken bell. Why would I stand in line to look at it?”

Carter chuckled. “Yeah, I agree. But you never did all the touristy stuff on a date with TK or anything?”

Nolan tripped over his own feet as they reached Market Street and turned toward City Hall. “Why would I go on a date with TK?”

“Because you guys-”

“TK has a girlfriend,” Nolan said, coming to a stop with his hands on his hips. He looked terrifying glaring down at Carter, who stood with his mouth opening and closing for a full thirty seconds before Nolan started walking again.

“I’m so sorry,” Carter said, hurrying to catch up with Nolan. “I thought you-”

“Well, you thought wrong,” Nolan said, his face stony. He stepped off of the curb and put his hand up, hailing a passing taxi and getting in in one smooth movement. “I’ll see you later.”

Carter stood on the sidewalk and watched the taxi pull away, his hands cold in the January air. After a moment, he shoved his hands in his coat pockets and walked the rest of the way home.

***

Going to Allentown for the All-Star Break might not sound fun, but for Carter it was better than spending a week in Philadelphia by himself, being depressed because Nolan was ignoring him. After their last game before the break, Nolan, TK, and a bunch of the young guys were leaving from the airport in Montreal for Turks and Caicos. Before Carter turned to board the team plane, he looked back and saw Nolan watching him go. Carter gave Nolan a small smile, but Nolan just ducked his head and turned away.

***

They won on the road in Boston and Carter could barely sit still on the plane ride back to Philadelphia. When he got back to the hotel, he paced around the room for ten minutes and then headed back outside.

He walked to Nolan and TK’s apartment near Rittenhouse Square and rang the buzzer to be let in by the doorman, who recognized him. The doorman waved him to the elevator and told him that “the boys” were in apartment 801.

Before Carter knocked on the door, he listened for a moment with his ear against it. He heard the TK screaming over the sound of a video game. Carter took a deep breath and knocked loudly.

TK opened the door, a big smile breaking out over his face. “Hartsy! What an honor, man! Come in,” he said, holding the door open. 

“Thanks Teeks,” Carter said. He followed TK to the living room, where he had his video game setup and Chinese food containers strewn all over the coffee table. 

“Umm,” TK rubbed the back of his neck, “Nolan’s in his bedroom. He’s having quiet time.” When Carter raised his eyebrows at that, TK continued. “When he gets too aggro, he goes to his room to get high and listen to weird music and I can’t interrupt.”

“Ah,” Carter said.

“But you’ll be okay,” TK said. “Just knock first.”

Carter gave him a look but headed down the hallway anyway. He paused at the closed bedroom and knocked softly.

“Teeks,” Nolan yelled from the other side and stomped to the door. “I _told you_ \- Oh.” The thunderous expression fell off of his face. 

“Hi Patty,” Carter said, his hands jammed in his jeans pockets. “Can I come in?”

Nolan shrugged and slumped back into his room. The bed was against one wall and a couch was up against the other. The lights were off and the room was lit only by the white Christmas lights strung along the walls. Nolan threw himself on the couch, stretching out its full length, and picked up a joint. He took a hit and held it out to Carter, who had sat on the floor on the other side of the coffee table. 

“Thanks,” Carter said, taking the joint and inhaling. 

They sat and smoked for a minute, passing the joint back and forth in silence. After they finished the joint, Nolan picked up his phone and started playing music out of the speakers. 

“Who’s this?” Carter asked. He was sure that he wouldn’t know the name of any band that Nolan would name. 

“Waxahatchee,” Nolan said and then closed his eyes.

“Cool,” Carter said. He stood up awkwardly and started pacing around the room, his hands pressed together so he didn’t freak out.

“You need to breathe,” Nolan said flatly, still lying with his eyes closed on the couch.

“I am breathing,” Carter lied.

"I can hear you panicking from over here.”

“I wanted to talk to you,” Carter blurted out, sitting back down and tucking his hands under his legs to stay still.

“About the thing with me and TK,” Nolan monotoned.

“Yes.”

“How we’re not together.”

“Yes.”

“And how dumb you are.”

“Yes,” Carter said automatically and then stopped. “Wait, _what_?”

Nolan opened his eyes and rolled them, sitting up. “How dumb you are,” Nolan said slowly, like Carter was a child. He gestured toward the sofa next to him.

Carter sat dumbfounded for a minute and then got up to sit next to Nolan, who leaned back, letting his arm come to rest behind where Carter was perched on the very edge of the couch cushion. 

“You’re so in your head that you can’t see what’s going on right in front of you,” Nolan said, his voice smoky warm in the glow of the Christmas lights. 

“What is going on?” Carter asked. He leaned back against Nolan’s arm. 

Nolan just shook his head ruefully and leaned over, kissing Carter softly on the lips. He pulled back and Carter opened his eyes, not realizing that he had closed them. 

“Oh,” Carter said, and Nolan smiled. 

Time stuttered as they kissed, long and slow, Nolan’s hands cupping Carter’s face. As Nolan kissed him and kissed him, Carter’s breathing evened out until he was breathing in sync with Nolan, moving with him. 

Nolan’s arms were around him and they stretched out together on the couch, kissing and touching, everything soft and quiet. Nolan traced his fingers, feather-light, down Carter’s chest, around his hip, up his back. It made Carter think of the ocean, quietly pulling back and crashing on the shore, over and over, hypnotically. They kissed until late, until they closed their eyes together and fell into a dreamless sleep, Nolan holding Carter, breathing.

***

Carter woke at 6am with a start, dawn filtering in from behind Nolan’s blackout shades. Nolan was still wrapped around him, his face tucked against the back of Carter’s neck. When he felt Carter still against him, Nolan threw one heavy leg over Carter’s hip and pulled him closer, whispering _shhh go back to sleep_. They dozed together for another hour before Nolan woke Carter up with slow kisses that traveled from his neck to his lips and then down his chest.

***

They won the next 5 out of 6 games and Carter was riding high. He was spending all of his free time with Nolan, making a nutrition-plan-approved breakfast for the both of them before practice, making out with him on the couch while they pretended to watch a movie, sleeping cuddled against him at night. 

Carter was learning all of Nolan’s smiles: the tiny one that told him that Nolan was readying a smart-ass comment; the menacing one he gave to TK as he chased him across the ice at practice; the beaming one he let out when his favorite song came on at the bar. 

Carter was learning Nolan's silences as well: the contented one for late afternoons on the plane, the golden light shifting through the windows and illuminating his hair; the tight one that told Carter that Nolan was going to disappear at the hotel and no one would see him until the next morning; the soft one for when Nolan was with Carter.

***

After a win at home against Anaheim, the team went out to Dolphin Tavern because TK insisted that he “had to get his dance on.” Carter didn’t know how to dance and Nolan refused to, so they spent most of the night holding hands by the bar and later making out in the back. Carter didn’t care if people saw them. All he wanted was to be close to Nolan.

They stumbled out to a cab at 1am, both tipsy from the sweet shots that TK made them do with him. Nolan’s hand was inching up Carter’s thigh in the taxi, his fingers digging into the muscle. He leaned close to whisper in Carter’s ear everything he wanted to do to him when they got back to his apartment.

Nolan had twenty pounds on him and Carter could feel it when Nolan was on top of him, kissing him while nestled in between his thighs, pressing hard against him. Carter threw his head back as Nolan sunk his teeth into Carter’s neck and licked up to his ear, telling him more of what he wanted to do to him. Nolan, who was the least talkative person Carter knew, and now the words were spilling out of him, saying everything that Carter had been thinking and fantasizing about since Nolan kissed him that night in his bedroom.

Now they were back there, Nolan deep inside Carter, one arm braced on bed next to Carter and the other tight around his chest. “Breathe with me, Carts, c’mon,” Nolan rasped into Carter’s ear as they moved together. 

Carter clenched his fists in the sheets and tipped his hips back, up into Nolan, telling him he wanted more, _more_. He let out a moan, all of the breath in his body flowing out of him, and gulped in a breath in time with Nolan. Together, they drew closer and came, their gasps loud in the quiet bedroom.

***

“I used to have panic attacks,” Nolan said as he traced shapes with his finger on the bare skin of Carter’s back.

“When?” Carter asked, turning his head on the pillow to look at Nolan’s profile.

“When I was in juniors, the year or so before the draft,” he said quietly. 

“What happened?”

Nolan sighed and reached for Carter’s hand, taking it and interlacing their fingers before resting their hands together on his chest. “I had a bunch of injuries, three surgeries in two years, you know. I was supposed to go first in the draft but people were starting to wonder if I’d be injury-prone forever.” He picked up their hands and brought them up to his mouth, kissing each of Carter’s fingers. “People started talking about Nico and suddenly he was everywhere. My dad was so pissed. I was sure it was my fault for not being strong enough.” 

Nolan paused, his voice tight. He took a deep breath and let it out, a tear rolling down from his eye. Carter squeezed his hand and Nolan squeezed back.

“Nothing was in my control. I was anxious all the time, I didn’t sleep.” Nolan turned to look at Carter. “You know what that feels like.”

Carter turned away from Nolan and immediately felt Nolan scoot up against him and put an arm around him, Nolan’s chest pressed to Carter’s back. “Yeah,” he whispered. “How did you make them stop?”

Nolan kissed below Carter’s ear. “I got drafted second and the world didn’t end.”

“Is that it?” Carter said, looking back over his shoulder at Nolan.

“Yeah,” Nolan shrugged. “I still ended up in a good place. And I stopped worrying about what everyone else thinks because this is my fucking life.”

“Hmm,” Carter said, turning back and cuddling into Nolan’s embrace. “Maybe I could do that too.”

“Just think about it,” Nolan said as he pulled the blanket over them. “You can’t let your fears get bigger than they really are.”

“Thanks, Nolan,” Carter said, kissing the arm that Nolan had slung over his chest.

“Now that we’re boyfriends, you’re calling me Nolan?” Nolan said with a smile in his voice.

Carter grinned uncontrollably. _Boyfriends_ , he liked the sound of that. “Yeah, is that okay?”

Nolan kissed Carter’s neck, “Anything you want, _Carter_.”

***

They developed a pre-game routine. After Carter stretched and did his eye exercises with the goalie coach, he’d meet up with Nolan in the hallway behind the locker room. It was empty as the guys moved out of the stretching area toward the dressing room to get dressed for warm-ups. When Carter got to the back hallway, Nolan would be standing there in his shorts and warm-up hoodie, leaning against the wall with a small smile on his face. He’d hold out his hands as Carter approached and Carter would lean against him. They’d stand there, Nolan’s arms circling Carter, and breathe together. Before they went to get dressed, Nolan would whisper in Carter’s ear that he was going to do great and to ignore all of the noise. Carter would squeeze his eyes shut and feel Nolan’s calm energy spread through him. They met again after each game, sitting close together in the locker room in their sweaty Under Armor, quietly talking over the game. Their teammates shouted as they streamed around them but Nolan and Carter stayed a quiet oasis in the middle of the storm.

But on a Sunday evening home game in February, whatever they did before the game didn’t prepare Carter for the onslaught he’d face - three goals on nine shots in the first ten minutes. He got pulled in the middle of the first and, as he sat on the bench trying to shut the thumping arena noise out of his head, he tried to ignore the sensation in his left hamstring. By the end of the third period, the twinge had seized up and he had to hobble to the locker room in order to leave as fast as possible. He didn’t look for Nolan, he didn’t even shower. He just left. 

Back at the hotel, he ran a bath and sank into it, first trying to massage the pain out of his hamstring and eventually just lying back in the water in defeat. As the water grew cold, he could see his career slipping away - the string of losses that would cause Philly to turn on him, get him sent back to the Phantoms and then the ECHL, his dream dying slowly in some small town in Saskatchewan.

Nolan called and texted but Carter shut his phone off for the night. He ignored the buzzing from the lobby, Nolan asking the concierge to ring Carter’s room over and over again before he gave up and went home. Carter ignored it all. He spent the night crouched on the floor in front of the tv, the wires pulled out of the wall, his reflection blank in the dark screen. 

By the time he showed up for the flight to Montreal the next day, he was pale and shaky. He hadn’t eaten - his stomach turned every time he thought of the game the next night - and he felt like he was going to pass out as he climbed the steps to the plane. He sat in the back and kept his head down so he didn’t have to see Nolan, who boarded the plane late, looking stressed and rumpled.

Carter quickly decamped to the bathroom where he bent over at the waist, his hand clamped along the back of his leg where his hamstring was screaming, and tried to breathe through the tightness in his chest. When he heard a soft knock on the door, he knew it was Nolan.

“Go away, please,” Carter called out.

“Carter, baby, please let me in,” Nolan said. “Or come out. I don’t think we both can fit in there.”

Carter cracked the door open but didn’t come out. “I really can’t do this right now.” He started to close the door but Nolan stuck his hand out.

“Hey, you can talk to me,” Nolan said softly. “Whatever’s going on, I’m here.”

Carter shook his head and backed into the bathroom, away from Nolan. “You shouldn’t have to keep doing this. I’m not worth it. I’m just going to bring you down with me.

Nolan frowned and shook his head. “Babe, no-”

“I just can’t,” Carter said, closing the door in Nolan’s face.

***

The next night, the disaster that Carter had been fearing came true. Another three goals on nine shots in the first 10 minutes of the game. Another humiliating pull in the middle of the first period. This time, he sat slumped in his stall while his teammates undressed around him, staring at the ground and growing colder as the sweat cooled against his skin. He was only semi-aware of Nolan sitting down in the stall next to his and taking his hand. He closed his eyes and let Nolan lead him to the shower, undress him, and stand under the hot water with his arms around him. 

They sat in the last row of the plane and Carter put his head on Nolan’s shoulder. He shut his eyes after takeoff and slept the whole way back to Philadelphia.

***

“You have to talk to the trainer tomorrow,” Nolan murmured softly into Carter’s hair. They were at home in Nolan’s bed.

“I know,” Carter said miserably. “Everyone is going to be really mad at me.”

“They just want to help you get better,” Nolan said. He leaned over and kissed the tip of Carter’s nose. “They believe in you and don’t want you to play hurt.”

“I’ve done so badly-”

“They’ll understand,” Nolan said, flattening his hand on Carter’s chest. Carter felt his heart rate go down immediately with the warmth of Nolan’s palm on his skin. 

“But the Stadium Series game,” Carter whispered at the ceiling, tears welling up in his eyes.

“I know,” Nolan said. “But you’re going to have a long career. There will be other big games.”

“I know you’re right but still,” Carter said. “Still.”

They laid together quietly, Nolan gently stroking his hand across Carter’s abs. 

“You know what would make me feel better,” Carter said. 

“You’re injured,” Nolan rolled his eyes at him. But he did let his hand drift past the waistband of Carter’s boxer briefs.

“I can lie here very still,” Carter smirked.

“I don’t want to encourage this type of thing,” Nolan said, nuzzling his face into Carter’s neck and sliding his hand into his briefs. “But you are so damn sexy.” 

He took Carter in his hand, feeling him fill out in his grasp, letting his long fingers work Carter over to full hardness. 

“Careful,” Nolan said as he slid Carter’s boxers down. He laid back down beside him and started stroking him, his grip just the right amount of friction, his thumb sweeping over the head on the upstroke. Carter tried to stay still but Nolan felt so good, his hand and the long line of his body pressed up against him. 

Nolan moved so he was on all fours over Carter, one hand braced next to Carter’s head and the other working his cock. Nolan kissed Carter, deep and filthy, as Carter moaned underneath him. Nolan slowed his hand down and sucked along his neck, biting his ear and whispering, “ _Fuck_ , you’re so hard for me right now.”

Carter exhaled a sigh. “It’s all for you.”

"Yeah, baby?” Nolan smiled down at Carter. “God,” he leaned in for a kiss, “when you’re all better I’m going to fuck you so good, you have no idea. Open you up all slow-”

“ _Fuck_ , I want that,” Carter gasped.

“- wanna come inside you, baby,” Nolan growled, his lips against Carter’s, his teeth biting as he moved his hand faster. “ _Fuck_ , you’re mine, baby, all mine-”

Carter kissed Nolan hard as he started coming, pulsing out over Nolan’s hand, breath skipping in his chest as his orgasm washed over him. As he came down, Nolan curled around him, his long hair tickling the back of Carter’s neck. 

“If you ever ghost me like that again,” Nolan said softly, kissing his shoulder, “I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I love you too, Nolan,” Carter said back, cuddling into Nolan’s arms and falling asleep

***

“Here,” TK appeared beside Carter as he stood by the entrance tunnel at Lincoln Financial Field. Carter was watching his teammates and their families from afar as they skated on the open-air ice rink the day before the Stadium Series game. 

“What?” Carter turned to see TK holding a pair of skates. “Why aren’t you out there with Carly?”

TK sighed and shoved the skates at Carter’s chest. “He’s moping around out there by himself.” TK pointed to where Carter could see Nolan drifting across the ice by himself, his head down as he passed all of the happy Flyers families and couples. “You should be out there.”

“But I-”

“I checked with the trainers and you’re fine to do an easy skate,” TK said, impatient. He started back toward the rink. “C’mon!”

Carter followed reluctantly, keeping an eye on Nolan, who hadn’t looked up and seen him. He stopped by the bench to put his skates on and paused by the door to the ice until Nolan came by.

“Hey,” he called out, opening the door and stepping out onto the ice.

Nolan looked up and his face broke into a huge smile. “Hi!” he said, reaching out for Carter and taking him by the hips. “Did you come out to skate with me?”

“Yeah,” Carter said, ducking his head. When he looked up at Nolan, he saw that his cheeks were blazing red and he hadn’t stopped smiling.

“Good, you belong here,” Nolan said. He took Carter’s hand and they skated around the oval, their skates gliding quietly over the ice in time, matching each easy stride. Nolan turned to skate backward and pulled Carter toward him, stopping at center ice with Nolan’s arms around him. 

“There’s photographers here,” Carter said, tucking his face into Nolan’s chest. Everything was quiet, the sound of their teammates' kids giggling as they played fading into the air and a sense of calm settling over them in the late-afternoon light. 

“I know,” Nolan said, tilting his head down to catch Carter’s lips in a kiss. 

Carter wouldn’t be playing in the big game that night - wouldn’t play for a few weeks while his hamstring strain healed - but he knew when he came back he would find what he was looking for on the ice. He’d find that place of focus and calm, the feeling he had when he was in Nolan’s arms, and he wouldn’t be afraid anymore. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are welcome :)


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